


Transfiguration

by analineblue



Category: No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-13
Updated: 2011-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 14:36:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/analineblue/pseuds/analineblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since they’d arrived here, Shion had seemed different, like he’d shed his skin, maybe. Like he’d found his purpose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Transfiguration

**Author's Note:**

> My take on the final scene from episode 10, from Nezumi's POV.

Nezumi had almost forgotten what this felt like. The force of the bullets throws him to the ground, and it’s like being tackled by someone twice his size, or more. Like his arms and legs are made of lead, pulling him down to the center of the earth like magnets.

It happens in an instant, catches him off guard when it shouldn’t. Because of course Nezumi had known his odds coming into this.

But when it’s staring him in the face like this, when it’s so close he can taste it, bile creeping up into his throat, and pain searing through his nerves – when it’s this close, all he can think of is how much he wants to _survive_.

He doesn’t think of Shion, only _himself_ , and it’s strange, in a way, because before this moment, Shion had been all Nezumi ever seemed to think about.

And that’s how he knows he’s reached the end, maybe. There’s nowhere to run, or hide, nothing between him, and the gun that’s aimed at his head – it’s all caught up to him, he thinks, it’s _over_. He’s failed.

And then the world flips upside down, right before his eyes.

The man is falling to the ground in front of him, and Shion is there, and he’s alive, and he has a gun, and for a moment it feels like Nezumi’s heart has stopped beating, like the _world_ has stopped beating.

His lips are forming words, but he’s too slow. It’s like everything is moving through molasses, like it’s not really happening, except that it is, it’s just that his words aren’t enough; Shion can’t hear him.

And then Shion pulls the trigger and the blood starts, first a trickle, and then a steady stream, and then a flood. It’s the most awful thing Nezumi thinks he’s ever seen, but at the same time he’s transfixed - he watches it play out in slow-motion horror as if they’re on stage, and this is some dramatic reenactment of a battle.

Shion’s eyes are terrifying and familiar at the same time, and Nezumi realizes that even through the searing pain of his wounds, his heart is pounding with anticipation. Like part of him has been waiting for this.

And then the light comes back into Shion’s eyes, and Nezumi can’t do anything except crumple under their weight. It feels like failure, so heavy and powerful he can feel it in his bones and his muscles, pulling him under.

He doesn’t understand, but at the same time he _does_ \- he remembers Shion opening that panel in the hallway, remembers how he’d barely flinched at the gunfire, and he wonders… If maybe something had started long before this, before the heavy boots had cracked his ribs, and the smoke had burned his eyes and the bullets had pounded him to the ground.

Blood coats the floor of the space between them, spreading out in a sickening pattern on the floor, a deep crimson stain that reaches out, stretching towards him.

Ever since they’d arrived here, Shion had seemed different, like he’d shed his skin, maybe. Like he’d found his purpose.

Looking at Shion now, Nezumi thinks maybe he’s been a different person all along. Maybe Nezumi should have been able to see the changes long before now. Maybe he’d ignored them.

Still, the guilt comes with the force of a tsunami, like water pelting his skin, a hundred knife-points at first, growing in force until they become a tidal wave. Then he looks up, and he realizes that it really is water pelting his skin and soaking him – soaking _them_ , because Shion is here now, kneeling next to him, and watching him bawl his eyes out like a child. The thing is, this place has _power_ , it has the power to change people, and Nezumi has built his entire world around protecting Shion, around keeping him safe and pure even though Nezumi knows that no one can stay pure here. That doesn’t mean he hasn’t fooled himself into trying though.

It’s as if his brain has stopped sending the right messages to his body, like it’s acting on its own, his chest convulsing, like he’s collapsing in on himself. They’d be soaked soon, and surely the others will have heard the gunshots – they can’t have much time. He knows they have to get out of here, but he can’t move. His chest feels tight, so heavy he can barely breathe, and Shion is just staring at him, and all Nezumi can think is that he has to get him out of here.

He wants to touch Shion’s skin -- better yet, he wants to taste it, wants to smooth away the lines of concern on Shion’s face with a thick swipe of his tongue, wants to watch those beautiful eyelashes flutter as Shion closes his eyes, wants to hear Shion gasp--

Nezumi tries to raise his arm, and the pain that floods his body takes all of his thoughts with it, save for one. They have to get out of here. He can’t protect Shion here.

And then Shion is close, and he’s got Nezumi by the shoulders and he’s telling him the most beautiful lies, telling him that this isn’t his fault, even though Nezumi knows in his heart that it _is_ , that everything changed the day Shion met him. He used to think it had changed for the better, that he’d shown Shion a different world, a different truth… 

He listens to Shion’s words and he knows they’re lies, every single one of them, but he thinks he might just believe them anyway, because in the end, he always listens to Shion, because he knows that words have power, and sometimes he thinks Shion’s words might have the most power of all.

And so for a while time stops again, and the rain stops, and Shion is bandaging his wounds and telling him things like _it’s not that bad_ , and _hold on, I just have to stop the bleeding_. His voice is calm, and with a knife - his knife, he realizes - Shion is tearing into the fabric of his sweater, and with deft fingers, he’s bandaging Nezumi’s leg, and then his arm. His hair brushes against Nezumi’s chin as he leans over him. It’s damp, almost dripping, and for a moment Nezumi presses his fingers against a droplet of water that’s escaped to the base of Shion’s neck, as Shion tucks the edges of the bandage into place around his leg with practiced ease. Nezumi lets the tips of his fingers linger on Shion’s skin, tracing the edge of a scar that he knows winds its way around down past Shion’s collarbone, and ends just past his shoulder.

Shion is changing, right before his very eyes, and yet Shion is the same as ever.

“I won’t lose you,” Shion whispers as the elevator climbs, though truth be told, it doesn’t feel like they’re moving at all. But Shion’s body is warm, pressed up against him like this, and that warmth seeps through several layers of wet clothes and sends a tremor through Nezumi’s body that he can feel all the way down his spine.

“I won’t lose you,” Shion says again, as if maybe Nezumi hasn’t heard him – as if maybe he’s trying to convince himself, or both of them, maybe.

In any case, it works. Nezumi believes him.

He closes his eyes, and begs Shion for forgiveness.

***


End file.
